Betwixt and Between
by Warpath Grizzly
Summary: Alfred's is a soul bound for Hell, but not if his brother has anything to say about it. In his quest to get his brother a second shot at life  and find some peace for himself along the way , Matthew must travel to Heaven, Hell, and everywhere in between.
1. Just Visiting

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter One: Just Visiting

Matthew always felt disoriented after crossing over, despite the fact that he really should have been used to it by now. How often did he make this trip? Three, four times a month now, on average? People would have said he was getting better, that he was starting to move on. Matthew, on the other hand, thought he was getting worse. He used to do this two or three times a _week_. Was he starting to lose purpose? Hope? Well, yes, and yes, but he had lost both long before any of this.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that there was very little to notice. The ceiling he was looking at was grey, as were the walls, the sink, the shelves, everything. Everything was a variant shade of grey. There was no temperature, or rather it was so normal it was unnoticeable. No draft wormed its way into the room, as there was no weather in the place he was in to create any. It was a dull world meant to distract none of its prisoners from their (almost) eternal punishment. But, alas, he digressed.

Sitting up straight in the empty clawfoot bathtub, Matthew unwrapped his arms from their criss-crossed position on his chest to grasp either side of the tub's rim to pull himself up. Straightening the jacket of his two-piece suit, being mindful not to crush the white tulip in his left hand, Matthew stepped out of the basin and walked towards the closed door. The doorknob was made of metal and he knew that the nerves in his hand should be registering a drop in temperature to signify that the handle was cold, but he felt nothing of it except its solidity. It's all he really needed to open the door, but even that little loss of life found so abundantly on Earth was enough to drive anyone crazy in here. And surely, most souls _did_ go insane in this place.

Pulling open the door, Matthew stepped from his Mississauga apartment into the familiar back alley in The Bronx he had seen countless times (though only once on Earth). He hated being 'outside' in this world, not only because everything was still only coloured in shades of grey, but because you could never tell if it was day or night. The grey sky was of a certain shade that could foul you into believing it was either or both, and it never changed. Nothing in this world ever changed, not even the cyclical routines of the inmates.

But this is where he had to be, because everything had changed here. His life had been twisted into an equally shitty direction by what had happened in this alley back on Earth four years ago, and what continued to happen in this alley here in Purgatory day after day. Fate was a bitch even on the best of days.

Heading deeper into the alley, Matt turned the corner to come face-to-face with the event that had sparked the fire, though the woodpile had been growing for years. He stood there and watched with his hands in his pants pockets as three shadowed, faceless figures punched and kicked his brother, pinning him to the grey brick wall. The beating couldn't possibly get much worse, there wasn't an inch on Alfred that wasn't bloody, or bruised, or broken. He was as good as dead. And yet, one of the figures pulled a knife from some concealed pocket and stabbed into his torso (thirteen times, the coroner report had said) until the front of his white shirt was stained a deep red, one of the few colours currently in this world. As Al sank to the dirty, grey floor of the alley, the three figures left, never once noticing Matthew's presence. They weren't meant to notice.

Matthew slowly walked over to sit against the wall beside Al. He waited patiently for the last remnants of his brother's pain to fade away as the wounds began to heal themselves. Not exactly the most original or exciting of murders, but painful and shitty nonetheless. He felt bad for Alfred for a moment, before he remembered that his brother deserved this.

"So, what brings you to my fine piece of paradise, brother?" Al asked without much interest, probably because he already knew the answer. Those blue eyes didn't even turn to look at him as those broken and barely functioning fingers lit a cigarette that he had taken out of his jacket pocket, one of the few things that had been in his possession when he died that night. Had he not just witnessed the replay of his brother's murder, Matthew would have assumed that Alfred and he were just having a normal chat. After dying the same death so many times, it started to become boring, annoyingly so even.

"It's been awhile since I've dropped in last. I figured I'd come see you," Matthew responded, refusing the cigarette Alfred offered him. Smoking may do nothing for Alfred now, but Matthew could still be affected back on Earth. And he had never really enjoyed it, quitting after only a month when he was in his late teens. He had had other vices to nurse…

"How long?" Alfred asked in a weary tone, as if he almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"Two weeks."

"That long, huh? Feels like it's been two _millennia_ here…" Time did not exist anywhere but on Earth. What _could_ have been a week in Purgatory was really only a few seconds on Earth. And since people in Purgatory only ever relived their deaths…well, it really did feel like forever here.

A moment of silence passed between the only two painted figures in their little corner of Purgatory. You can bleach the surroundings of a soul, but not the soul itself, apparently. It was hypocritical really; the supernatural could bend as many rules on Earth as it so fucking pleased, but as soon as a rule is made in a supernatural setting, it's almost unbreakable. Including the rules for messing with souls.

"How's the whole investigation going?" Al pressed on. Matthew detected curiosity, but the hope that had once been there was gone.

"Nowhere, really. No news on the name. And I haven't a fuckin' clue where Raum could be, and neither does anyone else. My sources can't even tell me if he's back in Hell or not. I'm half tempted to go the fuck down there myself and drag his ass back out."

Alfred chuckled a bit, a hollow sound, so unlike how he used to be. It still shocked Matthew sometimes how far his brother had fallen, even though he had fallen long before he even got to Purgatory. The other blond used to be so vivacious, so full of life and energy. They could have turned off the sun, and strung him up in the sky as a replacement and no one would have been any wiser, so bright had his light been. But that was when they were kids. They had both been more innocent back then.

"Matt…why don't you let me go?" Matthew looked at his brother just as the other did the same. He noticed that all the cuts and bruises were gone, for the moment at least. "Why don't you leave me to my fate? You know I deserve it, _I_ know I deserve it. You could have a life, again, a family. You could be happy."

Matthew couldn't help but grin tightly, snort, and look away. "My life ended when I got hit by that truck thirteen years ago. My family was finished when they found your body in that alleyway four years ago. And my happiness died when I caught my wife cheating on me with that hotshot soccer player from Cameroon three years ago. I've lost everything, Al. She even took my dog." Sea met sky as the pair locked eyes. Alfred remembered how attached his brother had been to that white husky, Kuma-something. He would have traded his soul if it meant saving that dog from death. "You _do_ deserve to go to Hell, but not yet. And not without me."

It was Alfred's turn to grin and snort. "Matt, we both know you're never going to end up where I'm going. You were always the better son."

"And you were never the bad one, Al. You know who's to blame here, and it's not you."

"Isn't it, though?" This forced Matthew to pause. Was his brother…giving up? "I mean, maybe I did all those things…on my own. Humans have free will, we can sin on our own."

Matthew's disbelieving look changed to one of determination and slight disgust. "I refuse to believe that. I'm not going to give up, Al."

"Then just leave me here, like this. I'll end up in Hell eventually, but, for sixty years at least, I can suffer here. You said it yourself, I deserve this."

"It's not about whether you deserve it or not, Al, it's about _when_ you deserve it. You left too early. And it was unfair for all of us." Seeing movement in the corner of his eye, Matthew knew that it was time for him to leave. The figures had returned and it was time for Al to continue his punishment.

Stubbing out his cigarette in a pool of his own blood, Al spoke, resigned to his doom. "Time for another round." He didn't get up even when Matthew stood. "Take care, ya hear? Don't do anything stupid out there."

"Don't worry, bro. I'm always getting into trouble nowadays," Matthew responded, grinning back meekly to match Alfred's less-than-perfect smile. Alfred grabbed Matthew's outstretched hand so he could be pulled up off of the dull ground of Purgatory New York City. Before he turned and left down the alleyway, Matthew deposited the white tulip in Alfred's hand.

Looking down at the flower as his brother walked away, Alfred smile genuinely, even if it was still sad. "Tulips, always white tulips…" And then the beating began anew, the perfect white petals becoming stained by the puddle of blood they were regretfully dropped in.

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: It's probably not as clear in this chapter as it will be in others, but this fanfic is heavily inspired by the movie Constantine and the comic it is (loosely) based on, Hellblazer. Just to make it especially clear, **I do not hold the rights to either of these things**. On another note, despite the fact that I will be borrowing concepts from these two mediums, I will also be making up my own stuff as I go along (such as the idea of Purgatory). I haven't read Hellblazer so any fans of the comic please excuse whatever faults I make, though they will sometimes be intentional in order to function in this plot.

So, continue? Scrap it? Save it for a rainy day? Please review and let me know.


	2. Listen To Your Elders

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Two: Listen To Your Elders

The sound of running water greeted Matthew's ears as he awoke back on Earth. Opening his eyes, he saw the same the room as he had in Purgatory, except now in colour. Albeit, the bathroom wasn't much better in colour. The white ceiling had a faded quality to it, with an entire corner having turned yellow from water damage. The peeling wallpaper was of some powder blue flowery design, and the tiles (which he couldn't immediately see) were a large, scuffed up checkerboard of white and black. The shelves tilted precariously, the cabinet was missing a door, and the sink, bathtub, and toilet were old enough to predate his grandmother. Overall, not the best room in the apartment, to say the least.

Sitting up in the tub, Matthew stretched out his hand to turn off the tap. That was the funny thing about Purgatory. The water had to be running to specifically get to Purgatory, not like Hell where you just needed to stick your feet in a bucketful of the wet stuff. Someone, not Matthew, would probably say that the running water was symbolic of the transitory nature of Purgatory, a place you flow in and out of.

It actually used to be a much easier place to get into. Souls used to end up there before going to either Heaven or Hell, regardless of how good or evil they were (saints were generally able to skip that step though, lucky fuckers). Supernatural beings could end up there merely by falling asleep, none of this water crap. And then Jesus died, screwed up the whole system, and Purgatory became a rather obsolete plane. Stupid Jesus…

Well, time to get to work, because trying to get your stupid brother out of Purgatory was a job in itself. Shame really, Matthew had been looking forward to a little R&R. He had only just got of his crap, five day a week office job an hour ago. Luckily, it was Friday so he had…Sunday night to kick back and relax.

Stepping out of the tub, Matthew both felt and heard the squelch his wet shoes and socks made as he put pressure on them. Luckily, the crossing over had only resulted in turning his footwear useless as the rest of him was still dry. Sighing and stepping into the adjoining bedroom, Matthew changed his socks and shoes, keeping the business look. After all, he was on the job.

Ignoring the small puddles of water that tracked his footsteps into the equally dilapidated bedroom, Matthew grabbed his long coat, walked through the meagre kitchen/living room area, and left the apartment, locking all five locks simultaneously from the outside.

After waiting for ten minutes at the nearest bus stop (which was another ten minutes from his apartment) for the bus to take him to Islington Station, Matthew was finally on the Mississauga Transit (hadn't they renamed it to something stupid, or something?) and out of the cold. Not that January was all that bad in the Greater Toronto Area, only about two or three centimetres of snow on the ground. After about twenty minutes on the relatively empty bus, Matthew was walking down the steps into Islington Station, leaving the darkness of the night behind for the artificial glow of the underground tunnels.

It was while he was standing on the also relatively empty platform waiting for the eastbound train that the most unfortunate thing happened to him. A girl who looked like she was probably in high school bounced up to him with a worried expression.

"Umm, excuse me, sir, but…is this the way to…Spahdeena?"

"It's Spad_i_na, kid. And yes, it is." He expected her to saunter away after his scathing reproach of her mispronunciation, but she simply stood there and waited beside him. She must have been new to the city, or at least have led a very sheltered life with loving parents that could afford the gas prices to drive her everywhere up until now.

Glancing off to his right, he decided to get a better look of the kid. She had long, dark hair pulled into two long pigtails that stuck out from underneath her white tuque. Her eyes were likewise a dark brown, her skin tanned, average height for her age. She wore a long, black winter jacket with a furry hood, the same he'd been seeing all over the city as worn by other women. Her jeans were tucked into a pair of thigh-hugging dark brown winter boots. She stood there with her hands in her coat pockets, smiling for no reason other than to simply smile. She looked like your average, bubbly teen.

In fact, she probably was. Matthew was in the midst of casting an invisibility spell when she asked, "So, are you from around here?"

Fuck…"Sorta," was his abrupt response. Why couldn't she just take the hint…

"Oh, well I'm new to the city. My family just moved here a few weeks ago from Florida."

"Fascinating…" he responded sarcastically.

"It's so cold up here. It's like, the first time I've ever seen snow."

"Well, it is winter…"

"Yeah, but like, winters in Florida are _totally_ different." She looked side to side for a moment, as if fearing her next words would be overheard. Still, she spoke with her bright smile in place. "Tell ya the truth, I didn't even know there was a place called Canada. When my dad said that we were all moving to Toronto, Ontario, I asked all my friends and none of us could think of a state called Ontario."

Matthew merely grumbled in response. He was trying his best to be polite, but he had things to do and he _really_ wasn't in the mood for socializing with teens that wouldn't be able to put New Zealand on the world map if their lives depended on it.

The sound of the train rumbling along the tracks caught their attention. Seconds later the subway train was slowing down, the doors, which had landed right in front of the pair, opening as the train came to a complete stop. Matthew took a seat at one end of the car, away from all the other passengers. When the girl sat down beside him, he could only glare at her. He had been raised to be polite to strangers, and that's something he hadn't been able to shake off even as he grew older. Three lazy tones rang out from the speakers as the doors closed, and the train started to move again.

"So, what's your name?"

Giving her a sidelong glance, he was _really_ tempted to give her another scathing remark, but he just didn't have the heart. Surrendering under moral pressure, Matthew answered reluctantly, "Matthew, just Matthew."

"Well, 'just Matthew', I'm Jessica. My friends call me Jess."

Matthew nodded in acknowledgment as the programmed female voice of the announcer rang through the speaker system. "Royal York, Royal York Station." It was going to be a long ride…

Matthew was just about to strangle the girl who wouldn't shut up about Florida when the train finally pulled into Spadina Station. Without a word, he got up and walked as fast as he could out of the station. It wasn't until he was making his way down the street that he noticed that the girl, Jessica, was accompanying him on his chilly stroll.

Oh, that was the last straw.

"Look, kid," he said harshly, stopping on a street corner and turning around suddenly which almost caused her to collide with him. She looked up at him, shocked. Matthew took a calming breath. "Why are you following me?"

"Umm, well, I'm supposed to meet my friends so we can go sneak into clubs and stuff, and I'm just following the directions they gave me. I noticed that you started going the same way so I just thought I could tag along with you, or something…"

"Wha-, sneak into clubs? How old _are_ you?"

"Eighteen."

Hmmph, well, could have been worse. "Well, a kid like you shouldn't be hanging around old, boring guys like me." He checked his watch. "Look, it's almost eight, your friends are probably wondering where you are. Just follow those instructions and forget you ever met me, alright?" Leaving no space for a reply, Matthew started walking eastward away from Spadina.

After making several detours to make sure he had lost her in case she was still following him, Matthew finally ended up where he wanted to be. Striding down the dead-end alleyway lit only by moonlight, Matthew reached the plain looking metal door at the other end and wrenched it open. Stepping through, he suddenly found himself in a familiar Montréal bar that was reserved for 'special customers'. And by special, he meant supernatural.

Though many supernaturally owned establishments tended to tilt between favouring the denizens of Hell or the denizens of Heaven, this was a neutral bar, allowing supernatural beings of all alignments haven within its walls. A group of vampires lounged in one corner, a demon half-breed was conversing with a magician at the bar, a succubus was well on her way convincing an angel half-breed to jump into bed with her, and a few ghosts lingered here and there, reminiscing on the old days (you know, when they had been alive). Matthew was generally on pretty good terms with the ghosts that favoured this bar, Le bord du cauchemar. But there was only one ghost he needed to talk to tonight.

"Bonjour, Richard," he greeted the dead man, sitting beside him at the bar.

"Mathieu! Mon chum, comment ç'-va?" The transluscent Quebecker downed his equally translucent glass of vodka. "I'd shake your hand, but…" He continued on in French, raising his partially see-through hands.

Matthew smiled genuinely, continuing to speak in French as well. "Of course, Blass. And things are…well."

"Hmm, well, things have been excellent for me, at least. It's been quite a show, watching all those worthless Italians kill each other in my beloved city. I'll be sad when it all calms down, those cockroaches should gun each other down to extinction."

Richard Blass, also known as 'Le Chat', was a Montréaler to the core; it's where he had been born, lived, died, was buried, and left his mark. His whole life had been one of crime, eventually becoming one of Canada's infamous gangsters from the late 60s, early 70s. There was only one thing he hated more than the police, and that was Italians. It didn't even matter if they were in the mafia or not, he hated them all equally. Similarly to how Hitler hated the Jews, now that Matthew thought about it.

Taking another shot that had materialised before him, Blass asked, "So why'd ya call, Matt?"

"You know why. Have you found out anything new?"

Blass shook his head. "Nothin'. But…" He reached into his jacket, and pulled out a ghostly piece of paper. "I did get a name, though not exactly the one you're looking for. Xiao, Mei. Beitou District, Taipei City, Formosa."

"You know, most people call it Taiwan these days."

"Well those people didn't die thirty-five years ago," countered Blass, putting the card away. Another shot materialized in front of the ghost.

Matthew's smile grew a little wider as he stood up to take his leave. "It's a shame you can't leave Montréal while on Earth, Blass. You would have loved the Avalon."

Blass snorted as he raised the glass to his pale lips. "You can keep your English stuff, Matt. I much prefer it here in Québec, land of plenty."

Matthew probably would have clapped the man on the shoulder if it wasn't for the fact that it would have gone right through the spectral being. Instead, he simply walked towards the door he had come from. It was likely still a bit early to be dropping in on this Mei. He would wait a few hours and catch her during her lunch hour.

Or at least that had been the plan before he had stepped through the portal and back into the Toronto alleyway. The sound of screaming reached his ears first, drawing his attention to the right-hand brick wall where a familiar looking female figure was being harassed by a man. And by harassed he meant about to be raped and possibly murdered.

_Honestly, kids these days_, Matthew thought, treading towards the pair who had not yet noticed him. _They just don't know when to listen_.

-{ * }-

Translations

Le bord du cauchemar – The Nightmare's Edge

Bonjour, Richard – Hello, Richard

Mathieu! Mon chum, comment ç'-va? – Matthew! My good friend, how are you?

A Note From Blaklite: For anyone reading this story that is not familiar with the TTC (and even for those of you who are), I suggest watching this "educational" video I have found. Just go on youtube and type in I Get On (The TTC) by Randal Paul (because for some reason I can't add links).

Enjoy!


	3. A Deal And Pancakes

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Three: A Deal...And Pancakes

Against Matthew's wishes, Jessica had followed him away from Spadina. She couldn't explain it; there was just something about him that made her want to find out what it was. So, summoning up the mentality that she was like the cops from those movies that followed their prey to their hideout, she had stalked Matthew through the streets.

Luckily wherever he was going wasn't far and soon enough she spotted him walking into an alley. She was expecting to look around the corner and notice if he took a right or a left at the intersecting street, but instead found that the alley was closed off by the wall of a building, and that the only other way in or out was by an inconspicuous door. Not wanting to lose her quarry, Jessica jogged up to the door and yanked on the handle, expecting to find some kind of secret club on the other side.

But the door wouldn't budge. The funny thing was that it didn't _look_ like the door was locked, since there were no locking mechanisms on her side of the door. Maybe it could only lock from the inside. After several minutes of trying, Jessica finally gave up trying to open the stupid door and settled for pouting at it as she leaned against the dull red brick wall. Matthew had to come out eventually…right?

The minutes rolled by one after the other, and still there was no sign of Matthew. There was no sign of anyone, actually. It was rather disconcerting. Jessica's mind was quickly convincing her to just go find her friends like she was supposed to do. Even though she had been glancing to the entrance/exit of the alleyway every few seconds like a scared little bunny, she didn't notice the male figure emerge from the shadows to pin her to the wall.

"Hello there," he said. His voice, filled with deadly intentions, was oddly seductive. Jessica knew she should be thrashing and kicking to escape his grasp, but somehow she remained frozen in shock. "Now what's a girl like you doin' out this late at night, hmm?"

She didn't respond. Then again, she wasn't supposed to. It was if she was trapped by some kind of spell, entranced by lucid hazel eyes. It was only as he titled her head to the side that she noticed…fangs.

And then those fangs were digging into her neck, sending signals of intense pain to her brain.

She screamed. She screamed despite the fact that no one was around to hear her. But she found it harder and harder to keep going as her blood, her life force, was drained from her. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she was tired, so tired…

Suddenly, the weight was thrown off of her. Willing her blurred vision to become clear, she spotted Matthew standing between her and the man. She couldn't make out his expression, but by the way the man was cringing back from Matthew from his position on the ground, she knew he was afraid.

"Leave," Matthew said coldly, enough to make her shiver slightly. "And be grateful it's not daylight."

After the man, the…vampire had scrambled to his feet and run out of the alley, Matthew turned to Jessica and was just barely on time to catch her limp body as her knees gave in. Just as her consciousness began to fade like the world around her, she heard him say one last thing. "Stay with me, Jessica." Shame she wasn't able to obey that last command.

* * *

As the girl passed out in his arms, Matthew knew it was time to take drastic measures. Lifting her limp body to carry her bridal-style, Matthew looked around to make sure no humans were watching, and stepped into the shadows. A second later, his feet were touching the wood floor of his apartment, and he was placing the unmoving body on his second-hand couch.

By then, Matthew was thoroughly panicking, though if you were to look at him, you wouldn't have guessed that. As he pressed a towel down on her neck to stop the bleeding, he was desperately trying to think up a spell to reverse vampirism. Unfortunately, he didn't know any, and he had never been very good at healing spells, never really needed them anyways.

Staring at the blood that was beginning to seep through the thin towel, Matthew came up with an idea. He had no clue if it would work, and all the reason to believe it wouldn't, but it was all he had and time was running out. If she died, it was the end; she would be a vampire forever. Unless she walked out into the sunlight.

Racing to the kitchen, he pulled out a suitably sharp knife and used it to make a deep incision on his right hand. Dropping the bloodied knife in the sink, he ran back to the couch, tossed the stained towel aside and placed his freshly bleeding palm against the puncture wounds in her neck. Precious seconds ticked by and he just watched her breathe, if anything to make sure she was still alive. Two minutes later, five minutes later, ten minutes later, and still no sign of recovery. Then, after over twelve minutes of waiting, the pulse that had felt faint in her neck began to pick up.

Tentatively, he removed his hand. His impromptu plan appeared to have worked as the puncture wounds had completely healed over. Matthew couldn't say the same about the vampire disease that could still be flowing in her veins. But as long as she didn't die, it was certain that she wouldn't become a vampire. Anything after that was chance.

Sitting back on his heels, Matthew breathed a sigh of relief. Jessica appeared stable, though she would likely continue to be unconscious for the rest of the night, and maybe into the morning and afternoon the next day. At least it would give him enough time to clean up the place.

Picking up the bloodied towel, Matthew stood. Looking down at Jessica's sleeping form, he noticed how pale her sun kissed skin was. She had lost a lot of blood, but at least now she was safe. Matthew couldn't help but think, though, that had he not been waiting for the subway, or had he tried harder to shake her off, she might not have gone through all this.

Walking over to the kitchen, Matthew deposited the towel in the sink containing the knife. Washing the blood off his hands, he checked his palm and was satisfied to find that it, too, was healing rather well. The bleeding had stopped, at least.

Wetting a hand towel from a drawer beside the sink, Matthew returned to the living room area to wash the drying blood from Jessica's neck. He knew how disconcerting it was to wake up covered in blood and yet bear no wounds. He noticed that her shirt and coat were a little stained as well. Removing her coat, but leaving the shirt on, Matthew moved her into a more comfortable position on the couch, wrapping a blanket around her in the process.

Suddenly, Matthew felt the weight of the day's events tugging down on his consciousness. He could clean up his apartment in the morning before she woke up. It wasn't quite that untidy anyways.

Shutting off the lights, he took one last look at the girl passed out on his couch before calling it a night.

* * *

When Jessica finally awoke, she found herself bathed in light. With half closed eyes, she looked to the source of light which was just the sun shining in through the slits in the blinds. _Go away_, the look in her half-closed glaring eyes told the sun. But the sun, it seemed, would not listen to a girl hundreds of miles from the place she'd called home for most of her eighteen years. Home now was not an endless stretch of golden sand separating the uncontrollable seas from the stability and order of the city. No, home was a frozen wasteland where even man, the dominant species over all life, was subject to winter's unrelenting grasp. Why anyone would willingly live here was a mystery to her. She had deduced after her first day in Canada that everyone here _must_ be crazy; there was simply no better an explanation.

Well, at least she wasn't cold just then, especially with the brutally bright sunlight shining down on her. She was about to turn over and try to fall back asleep when it hit her: sunlight never reached the corner where she had placed her bed. Nor was her bed this cramped, or made of such shitty cushion material. And that's when Jessica realised that she was not in her bed, and likely not even in her house.

Struggling to recover her memory, Jessica went through the events of the previous night in her head. She remembered heading towards Beth's apartment, but for some reason everything cut off in some random alley. Then the subway popped up and the image of that man, Matthew he had called himself, sprang to mind. He had seemed so lonely and sad and serious; she had felt compelled to try and talk to him and make friends.

Lifting her head and looking around the small room, she wondered if that's whose house she was in now.

The call of "good morning" affirmed her speculations. Sitting up on the couch she had been sleeping in, Jessica noticed Matthew, that previously stoic figure, busying around the kitchen as he cooked some kind of breakfast. He was smiling, a gentle kind of smile, like the reflection of moonlight on a calm lake. It gave her the impression that he didn't smile a lot, that she was witnessing a rare moment. And then her stomach growled.

A snicker. "Breakfast's almost ready. You can go wash up in the bathroom, it's around the corner and to the right."

Nodding, Jessica swung her legs around to place her socked feet on the wooden floor of the living room. She had to brace herself on the arm of the couch as she stood. Her legs were weak and sluggish as she moved into the next room.

Jessica realised quickly on that Matthew must live alone judging by the minute size of the apartment. Only the bathroom could provide privacy as it was the only room with a door. Trudging through the bedroom, she took in the sparse furniture: a double bed, a dresser, a stand-up wardrobe (there was no closet), a desk covered in books and papers. Was he a university student? If that's the amount of reading and paperwork university students had to do, she was not at all excited to graduate from high school.

On the single bedside table sat a digital clock, the numbers 2:14 glowing in green. It couldn't possibly be that late…Then again, she did have a habit of sleeping in. But never really until two in the afternoon. Perhaps she'd simply been up late the night before, drinking or something…

Shakily, Jess entered the bathroom and closed the door, locking it in the process and taking two steps back as if some imaginary beast on the other side would break down the barrier between her and danger at any moment. Remembering the fact that her memories ended in a dark alley, Jessica's mind couldn't help but allow another possibility to surface: had she been kidnapped? Perhaps this Matthew had drugged her, which is why she couldn't recall being brought to his apartment. But why? She didn't feel sore, you know, _down there_, but that didn't exclude the option that he was still _going_ to rape her.

She shuddered violently at the mere thought of it, perhaps not so much that it was she who would be the victim, but that it would be Matthew perpetrating the act. She simply couldn't bring herself to believe that he was just another creep roaming the streets.

Turning towards the sink, Jessica splashed some water in her face and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves. As the shaking stopped, she glanced up into the mirror and what she saw definitely caught her attention. There was dried blood on her shirt that appeared to stem from the side of her neck. But there was no cut on her skin, not even a scratch or a bruise. Reaching up to brush her neck, she wondered how she had gotten someone else's blood all over herself, and whose it was.

As her fingers gently caressed her tanned skin, a new memory cropped up, taking up all her space for thought in that moment. Suddenly, she remembered: the waiting in the darkened alley, the man with sharpened teeth, the stabbing pain in her neck, and then being saved by a mysterious man she'd only just met on the subway before the darkness took her.

Before she could rein it in, her mind drifted off again, this time to books and movies about pale strangers with sharp fangs that only went out at night, were immortal, and drank…blood. She had been attacked by a vampire, a creature of the night, a being that only existed for her behind pages and silver screens.

Until now. Her logical side, small as it may be, told her that it simply wasn't possible. Vampires were fairytales, magical beings don't exist. But some other part of her knew, instinctually and without a doubt, that there was no way the person who had attacked her had been a mere man.

Staring into her near-black eyes, Jessica resolved herself. She would ask Matthew about what had happened last night, and prove to herself that the villain was the vampire, and not the seemingly innocent blond cooking bacon only a few feet away. But first, she really needed to pee…

* * *

"Well, that's…ummm…Are you sure you remember it that way?"

Jessica gave a vigorous nod as she chewed on her bacon. "I'm positive," she assured after swallowing the greasy goodness. Placing an elbow on the rickety table, she narrowed her eyes at him. "And I _know_ that's what happened, because you saw it too."

Giving her a neutral look, Matthew continued battling it out with his conscience. He hated lying, and worse, so did his conscience which made the act virtually impossible. But he also hated the idea that should this girl find out about the secret world going on all around her, it would forever change her, make her paranoid or curious. Curiosity tended to get you dead when dealing with the supernatural.

Just as he was struggling to formulate a lie that would work, that the mugger must have hit her over the head and that in a panic he had taken her back to his apartment (all the way back in Mississauga without getting questioned by anybody as to why he was carrying an unconscious girl's body around…), his conscience won over. And how was he to explain the blood anyways? Besides, she seemed so adamant to prove that she wasn't crazy, that the supernatural existed. Perhaps she was part something and could sense the presence of these uncanny beings. He made a mental note to explore that possibility later.

Giving up, Matthew sighed and looked down at his half-eaten pancakes. "You're right, Jessica. Everything that happened last night happened as you remember it. You _were_ attacked by a vampire. You were also dying, so I brought you back here so I could heal you."

"So…you're like a wizard, or something?" Jessica asked, unfazed by the fact that she had almost died, and simply happy that she hadn't.

"A magician, yes. And no, it's nothing like Harry Potter, so don't even ask. Magicians are humans that are able to contact the supernatural, and use supernatural energy to create spells and summon demons, among other things."

"Demons? Aren't they evil? Does…does this make magicians evil for using them?"

"Some are evil, I suppose. But summoning demons doesn't make a person evil. Magicians use them as workers, tools almost…it's difficult to explain."

"Then teach me," Jessica exclaimed suddenly, surprising both herself and Matthew. Despite the fact that everything society had ever taught her about demons and dabbling with magic was that it was bad and always got most of the main characters killed, she couldn't help but feel excited. As a kid, she'd always imagined that the world was filled with magic, and fairies, and unicorns hiding just out of sight. Now that she knew that it was all real, she just had to know more, how far this fantasy stretched.

For Matthew, his worst fear had been realised. She wanted to be a magician, his apprentice, a citizen of a world she should never have found out about in the first place. A world where people played with fire and risked death on an almost daily basis. And yet, there could be no better a solution. This way, he could keep an eye on her in case she should die and become a vampire. Then, at least, he could spare her that life of sin, a life that would someday likely lead her to Hell.

God, he sounded like a preacher…

"Alright, kid, if you want to be a magician so badly. But I'm warning you, it's dangerous, _very_ dangerous. One wrong move _will_ kill you. This is not a thing you do for fun…mostly. Still interested?"

She didn't even hesitate to nod. He stared at her hard for a moment, before returning his attention back to his breakfast.

"Good. From now on, as my apprentice, I will call you Jesse."

"Wh…what? Why?"

"No questions, now eat your pancakes before they get cold."

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: Well, hopefully this part explains the basics of vampires as they apply to this story. However, it's unlikely that another vampire character will ever appear! So I just wasted everyone's time. Ah well...

Lots of magicky stuff will happen from here on out. As well as (hopefully epic) battle scenes. You've been warned.


	4. Taking Care of Business

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Four: Taking Care of Business

Mr. and Mrs. Sanders didn't even look up at the sound of the front door closing to acknowledge the return of their only child. It had been a common occurrence in Florida for Jesse to not return home after she said she was going out with friends for the night. And she almost always came back home hung over in the afternoon the next day, irritable and in pain. By the way she plopped down into her regular spot at the kitchen table, and used her fork to push peas around the plate instead of taking a bite of the delicious pork chop (Mr. Sanders's favourite after medium-rare steak), both parents naturally assumed that it had been a wild night.

Jesse, of course, was not hung over, though she definitely looked like she was. Her body was still a little pale and unsteady from so much blood loss, and the rest of it she was able to fake. She'd been hung over enough times to know how she should act.

Of course, she couldn't just tell her parents that she had been attacked by a vampire, almost died, was saved by a magician, and had become his apprentice all within less than twenty-four hours. They wouldn't believe her (Hell, she barely believed it herself), and in a worse case scenario they would probably ship her off to the nearest loony bin. No, she had to put on an act for them, a convincing lie to keep her secret safe. It probably would have bothered her had she been someone else's kid, but she had lied to her parents enough times that it simply didn't trouble her anymore.

Before she had left Matthew's apartment for the bus station, she had called home on her cellphone and told them that she had stayed over at Beth's for the night, and that she had forgotten to call and let them know because they had been having a lot of "fun". Her parents knew that that was Jesse lingo for she got really, really drunk at a party, and had passed out on someone's couch. They had known this would inevitably happen before she had even left the house the night before. It was really all too easy.

But, being parents, they still had to ask about it.

"So, how was your night, dear? Have lots of fun with Beth and the girls?" her mother asked as she sprinkled her mashed potatoes with pepper.

"Yeah, it was good," Jesse mumbled, not once looking up from her plate.

Awkward silence.

"Beth called last night looking for you," Mr. Sanders stated plainly. He was clearly demanding an answer to this issue.

_Oh crap, Beth…_, Jesse thought. She'd forgotten to let her friends know she was alright. "Oh, well, the bus was late, and I got a little lost on the subway. Got off at the wrong stop, couldn't figure out where I was. Had to call Beth on my cell and tell her to come pick me up. She musta called before that," she lied, hopefully convincingly.

By the way her parents nodded slightly, she assumed it had worked. "She had called rather early," Mrs. Sanders confessed.

"Yeah, she can be kinda…impatient." At least Jesse wasn't lying on that one. Another awkward silence descended upon them after that. Deciding it was as good a time as ever to ask, Jesse sprung her question on her parents. "Beth and the girls wanted to take me out tomorrow to see the town, and I was thinking of going."

"Of course, dear," agreed Mrs. Sanders with a genuine smile. She was generally the easier one to persuade. "I'll give you some money so you can buy lunch while you're out. Oh Honey, I'm so glad to see you've been able to make new friends so soon. We know it's been hard for you, adjusting to a new city. But remember, you can always go back in the summer and stay with Emily or Jasmine. Who knows, your dad and I might even be able to send you to college in Florida."

Jesse wasn't quite sure how to react to that. She missed Florida dearly, after all it was where her life started, and where she'd lived until a month ago. Everything was there, her friends, her family, her memories, her dreams. When her parents had told her the news, she had been devastated. Her and her friends packed in years of time together in only a few short months. She wasn't going to lie; she had cried the first day they had moved into Toronto.

But now she was starting to get comfortable in her new home. Despite the cold and the snow, she really couldn't complain that her life had changed _too_ much. She still went to school, partied, and didn't have a job. Well, she did kind of have a job now, she supposed. She was a magician's apprentice, Matthew's apprentice.

It was just then that she realised exactly what she'd signed up for. Images went through her mind of casting elaborate spells, and fighting evil beings like werewolves and witches. She knew the world's biggest secret now; she would always be living in its shadow, always knowing what was out there, feeling obligated to do something about it. Her life would never be the same again.

"Jesse, dear? You alright?" her mother called to her from the real world.

Shaking off her thoughts, Jesse answered, " Yeah…yeah, I'm fine, just not feeling good. I'm…I'm just going to be resting in my room."

* * *

"Why is it that every time I try to do something good, something shitty happens?"

Alfred took a drag from his colourless cigarette. "Because you're bad at being a hero."

"And you're just the perfect example I need to learn from, aren't you, Al?" Matthew joked, though his frustration showed through a little.

"Hey, I used to fly down and save the girls all the time. Swept them right off their feet," Alfred defended.

"By 'all the time' you mean every Wednesday and Saturday night at 1am, and by 'sweep them off their feet' you mean lift them off the ground so you could get a better angle."

"Camilla had nice legs…" Alfred lamented. He'd never be able to see her again (then again, he'd only seen her twice in his lifetime).

A moment of silence passed during which Matthew wondered what he was going to do. Alfred didn't have to wonder. He knew what he would have done; he would have left that girl to die. Then there would have been no situation. But his brother liked taking the high road, which only brought him trouble.

Then again, Alfred was the one who was dead.

"Look…" Alfred sheepishly tried to soothe his brother's worries. "You can't change what happened, sooo you're just gonna have to live with having a sidekick. You'll see, it'll be even better than having a pet, because you won't have to clothe and feed her, or pay for her half of the rent."

Taking another drag on his cigarette, Alfred was very good at not noticing the clear WTF? painted across his sibling's face. "I…I think you're missing the point, Al."

"Well being a magician can't be _that_ bad, right? I mean, _you're_ still intact. Unless your right arm is, like, bionic or something, 'cause that would just be freakin cool."

Realising his stress levels were only getting higher, Matthew sighed and rubbed at his temples, trying to will away the encroaching headache. It happened to everyone who was exposed to Alfred for too long. "No, Alfred, I don't have a robotic arm. Or leg, before you ask. Being a magician isn't too difficult, but becoming a magician is downright deadly. Most don't even survive their first spell, let alone their first summoning."

Patting the still living brother on the knee, Alfred didn't bother looking up as he spoke his next words. "Just think of it this way: if she does die, then you won't have to worry about her anymore."

"Until she springs up as a vampire, and spends the rest of her undead existence hunting me down for revenge."

"Pffft, vampires schmampires. You've faced worse."

"None of them were angry women I accidentally let die."

"Hmmmm, true…women," Alfred scoffed, flicking the butt across the alley.

Matthew glared at the shorter-haired blond. "Al, don't be sexist."

"Hey," the condemned one defended, raising his hands towards the blank grey sky in a 'don't blame me' gesture. "If they only got in the kitchen and made me my damn sandwich, then I wouldn't need to be sexist, 'cause they'd already be doing their job."

"That's it, I'm leaving. Times up anyways," Matthew stated, rising from the ground as the unidentifiable figures returned. "Who taught you how to be such an ass?"

"Learned from the master," Alfred joked, taking a half-hearted swing at his brother's ankles from where he remained seated. He was not successful in that endeavour; however he did manage to get the other to smile even a fraction.

Wordlessly, Matthew turned and began making his way towards his exit. Before he could leave the alleyway, Alfred couldn't help but tease him some more, calling out, "Bye, Matt." As expected, he received no answer. His brother had stopped saying good-bye to him sometime before the day he died. It wasn't because the other was trying to be tough, but because he was afraid that by saying good-bye he'd never see Alfred again. After all, the last time he said so on the phone, Alfred's corpse turned up three months later in the streets.

Everyone was entitled to their paranoia.

* * *

Jesse awoke to the angry tolling of her alarm clock at 7am the next morning. She wasn't quite sure why she was awake so early on a Sunday; even the sun was barely awake. Then she remembered that today was the day she started her wizard training. Or Magician training. Whatever, same thing pretty much. But Matthew seemed adamant about her using the term magician, so she might as well start getting used to it. So, today was the day she started her _magician_ training.

Working on adrenaline and a good night's sleep, Jesse took advantage of her rare bout of early morning energy to get ready. By the time eight 'o' clock rolled around, she was prepared for the day ahead of her. Mentally patting herself on the back for her ability to mobilize quickly, Jesse said good-bye to her parents, pocketed the extra money her mom handed her, and headed out the door towards the bus stop.

It was still early by the time she got to Matthew's apartment. It was an older building that had been renovated to contain four apartment units. The front door was kept unlocked since there was no way to call individual tenets to the main entrance, so Jesse was able to just let herself in. Walking past the ground floor apartments, she climbed the stairs to the next level.

She was just about to knock on the right-hand door when the clicking of locks sounded, and the door opened, revealing a very surprised Matthew.

"Jesse? What are you doing here?"

"Uhh, w-well I'm here to start wizard training. I mean, magician training, Mr. Williams, sir."

"This early on a Sunday? Crisse, I thought kids your age were supposed to sleep in and be lazy on weekends, not want to do extra work," Matthew grumbled, using his left hand to rub his temple. "And it's Matthew, just Matthew."

Nodding in understanding, Jesse simply stood there, too nervous to speak. Okay, maybe it _was_ a bit of a bad idea to just show up randomly on other people's doorsteps at insane hours in the morning. She just wanted to try magic so badly, try something new, and prove she could be a good apprentice. She'd never really been good at anything, besides socializing…

Maybe Matthew could see it on her face, but suddenly his expression softened and he sighed. Opening the door wider, he stepped back into his apartment, and disappeared into his room. Taking this as a cue, Jesse stepped into the home, putting her bag down on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Here," Matthew stated, depositing a huge stack of old and/or tattered books on the table. "Start with the ones on top and work your way to the bottom. I have to go take care of something."

Jesse couldn't help but gape at the multitude of reading material. "You want me…to read all this?"

Pausing in the doorway, the bespectacled man looked back at her. "If you try and perform magic without knowing what the hell you're doing, you could easily end up hurting yourself, and everyone around you. First, know the theory, and then apply it. I'll be back in a bit. There's food in the fridge if you get hungry." Closing the door behind him, Matthew left without giving her enough time to respond.

Sighing, Jesse sat down at the table and grabbed the first book on the pile: _Magic for Dummies, A Reference for the Rest of Us_. Well, at least it would be a modern read…

* * *

In a small room closer to the inner sanctum of the city, a small blond was waking up. The rays of sunlight shining through the partially open blinds had been slowly making their way closer to his sleeping visage before alighting upon it. Opening his dark blue eyes, the fair-skinned young man was forced to squint into the light before rolling over and away from it. He couldn't quite explain how he felt: fresh, satisfied, alive really. And yet, so lazy…not tired, but sluggish. Like the feeling you get after having a wonderful, filling meal. Having no desire to get out of bed, he snuggled closer to the other presence wrapped in the soft sheets. Smiling out of pure bliss, he hugged the figure beside him a bit tighter…

Instantly, he heard an unusual crunching sound. Eyes shooting open, the blond lay there stock still, frozen in panic even as his heart pounded. _Oh no…oh no, oh no, oh no…_Squeezing again, the same disturbing sound met his ears, and through the fabric he felt something boney, too boney.

Jolting up from the bed, he tossed the blankets off in one clean swoop. Underneath was a corpse, a skeleton whose blacked, shrivelled skin clung tightly to its frame. The eyes were gone, the lips peeled back. Flakes of dried out skin dusted the off white sheet beneath where he had accidentally crushed the cadaver.

And then he remembered.

_Oh shit!_

Clumsily wrapping the corpse up in the sheets, he hauled the remains onto the floor, and began dragging the once living person to the door. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do, but he knew he had to dispose of the body. The back alleyway would do, he hoped. He just had to hurry, before…

Knock, knock, knock.

He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe since breathing would require moving. He just stood there staring at the door, blue eyes wide. More knocking. This was it, he was done for. The contract would be over. But maybe, maybe he would understand…

Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, the little blond finally opened the door a crack. He couldn't look his visitor in the eye, considering what he'd done. "Hello, Matthew…"

"Kjetil, what's wrong?"

Opening the door further, the pale Nordic boy stepped back to reveal the tangle of sheets, one of the boney arms poking out from underneath. As Matthew stepped inside and closed the door, Kjetil fully expected a furious reprimand. _I deserve it…_he thought, shaking slightly where he stood.

He was more than surprised to find himself wrapped up in the arms of the other a moment later. _Matthew's…not mad?_

"I'm sorry, Kjetil," the taller of the two confessed. "Something came up, but that doesn't excuse my not being here for you."

A single tear rolled down the short man's face. "I…I was just so hungry. And, I guess I was just too weak to hold back…"

"No, it's not your fault. If you had to eat, you had to eat. Now, let's get you some clothes." It was only just then that Kjetil realized he was still stark naked from the previous night's events.

Kjetil was an incubus, a low level demon that required the life-force of humans to survive, and achieved this through intercourse. The man, whose corpse now resided on his floor, had been a one-time customer. He hadn't meant to kill him; he just lost control and couldn't stop himself from feeding off of the man's energy. He hadn't had a decent meal in over a week.

As he was handed a pair of sweat pants and a loose grey t-shirt to wear, Kjetil was reminded of how he came to meet Matthew. It had been a year and a half ago, when he had been run out of Hell by the new queen. Since the death of Triskele, the mother and once queen of all succubi and incubi, at the hands of the First, Triskele's chosen daughter, Triquetra, had been in charge. Though Triskele had been brutal in punishing those that disobeyed her, she had given the succubi and incubi a moderate amount of freedom. Triquetra was intent on shaping them into the strongest, most disciplined army in Hell. And so, when Triquetra found out about the rebel group he had joined just a few weeks before, she called for the execution of all members in what she assumed would be a swooping raid. However, some had escaped, Kjetil among them, and ended up on the Earthly plane, attempting to hide from Triquetra's prying eyes.

Slipping on the pants and shirt, that fateful day July day sprung to Kjetil's mind. Jumping across planes, he had ended up in Norway, injured from both the raid and the jump. He had tried to hide out from Triquetra's cronies, moving from city to city, but somehow they still managed to track him down. It had been a coincidence of incidents that brought Kjetil and Matthew together. Matthew had been in the area looking for a demon when, lo and behold, Kjetil and a whole troupe of succubi and incubi chasing Kjetil had come barrelling down the street towards him. After scaring off most of the pursuers and badly wounding the rest, Matthew had taken him back with him to Toronto, where Kjetil divulged his story.

Out of a mixture of pity and being compelled to do the right thing, Matthew had placed a sigil on him that kept lower level demons from being able to find him through their demonic powers. Though Matthew had asked for nothing in return (and in fact had been trying to shake off the persistent incubus at first), Kjetil had made it his mission to stop killing humans (within reasonable limits, though he never much liked killing them in the first place anyways) and help Matthew as much as possible in completing his own mission. Due to this latest development, both his goals were not seeing much success, but at least he was trying.

"-re you alright now, Kjetil?" Matthew's voice broke through the reverie.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," was his dazed reply, looking down at the tangled sheets at his bare feet. "What are we going to do about him?"

Without following the shorter blond's gaze, Matthew rearranged the bed sheets to make it a hospitable place to sleep once more, drawing out new sheets as necessary. "Don't worry about him. I'll take care of it." Stepping closer, he ushered the demon towards the bed. "Do you think you'll be alright until I come check up on you later tonight?"

Nodding, Kjetil turned his dull blue eyes up to the magician. "You got a lead, didn't you?"

"I might've. I'm not quite sure if it'll be at all useful, though I'm still going to check it out."

Pleased with having finally gotten the incubus into bed, Matthew walked over to the corpse, and twisted the sheets to make a sort of makeshift sack. Before he could take his leave, however, Kjetil called out to him, "Just stay safe, okay?" He had seen the glint, the glint of hope, in the magician's eyes before he had turned away. He didn't want the other to act recklessly on the job just because someone _might_ finally have news on Raum. One misstep would definitely get him killed.

"Don't worry, Kjetil. I'm too close to start messing up now." And with that both magician and corpse were gone. Kjetil could only hope that the former would return when he said he would.

* * *

"Poltergeists…Rabisu…Sirens…Succubi…hmmm?"

Jesse had been scanning through the books faster than she probably should have been, bypassing ones that sounded boring (which was most of them), or only reading sections that caught her attention. She had at last come upon a Demonology book that compiled several types of demons in alphabetical order, and even naming individual demons in some cases. She had spent most of her time on that book rather than reading the beginner's guides on how to use magic that had been at the top of the pile. It was much like reading about chemistry: boring if you weren't blowing shit up.

_Lower level demons, succubi, and their male albeit rare counterparts the incubi, feed off of the life energy of living organisms by having intercourse…_blah, blah…_can change form…_blah, blah, blah…_black, leathery wings…_blah, blah…_demons and angels immune to succubi powers_…boooooor-huh? _Succubi are among the most human of supernatural beings. Spending the majority of their lives in human form on the Earthly plane among humans, succubi are much more compassionate towards humans than most demons and even many angels…_Human supernatural beings. That seemed like a bit of an oxymoron. She hadn't really given much thought into the possibility. Jesse figured that demons were evil and angels were good, like in books and movies.

_I guess like real life, the supernatural world isn't black and white either…_

"How's the reading coming along?"

Jesse nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden sound of Matthew's voice. Turning around, she saw him standing in front of the door, though she was certain she hadn't heard it open or close.

"How did you…?"

"I teleported. Or warped if you prefer. Matter relocation, instant transmission. I moved from one spot to another using magic, basically. You would know how it worked if you'd read through the first book." His tone wasn't really one of annoyance, or even disappointment. It was a slight reprimand, but a resigned one as well, as if he'd expected that she wouldn't really read the books seriously. And well, who would when full chapters were dedicated solely to drawing the right kinds of circle and breathing properly.

"I managed to skim through a lot of it," Jesse replied indignantly. "And I did glance over the section on teleporting, thanks."

"Good," was all Matthew said, stepping closer to her, and motioning for her to stand, which she did. "'Cause you're about to experience your first jump. Well, your first jump while conscious."

"Wha-" was all Jesse could get out before one of Matthew's hands landed gently on her shoulder, and she was tossed back into a spinning vortex of colours as her stomach flipped upside down.

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: Sorry for the long pause everyone. The exam period sucked up a lot of my time, and I've been trying to sort out my once more rapidly changing life. Long chapter, I know, and yes, it is mostly drabble, but rest assured the next chapter should be much more exciting to make up for all this…drabbling.

Ummm…I've forgotten what I was going to mention, and for everything else I'm simply too tired to think. Enjoy (or not) and review (or not).


	5. Not Quite What I Came Here To Do

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Five: Not Quite What I Came Here To Do

Before she truly realized what was going on, Jesse's feet hit the pavement. She would have stumbled to the ground had Matthew not kept a hold of her. A second later, she was emptying the contents of her stomach onto the sidewalk.

"It's alright, this is normal," Matthew explained, pulling Jesse's hair back and away from her face as she clutched her stomach and wretched again. "Everyone gets sick on their first jump. You'll get used to it."

Bracing herself against the wall with one arm, Jesse slowly righted herself, still holding her abdomen. Looking to the magician, she smiled in understanding, her eyes revealing her gratitude for his restraining her hair. Nodding once to her, Matthew turned around and started setting off down the brightly light street with Jesse following on shaky legs.

The first thing Jesse noticed was how colourful the street was. The second, how filled it was. And third, that it was night time. They must have jumped to the other side of the world. Upon further examination, Jesse noticed the glowing neon signs written in distinctly Asian characters, the street vendors shouting in a language foreign to her ears, the physical characteristics of the people around her. _Toto, I don't think we're in Canada anymore…_

"Where are we?" she called to Matthew who didn't slow his pace one bit among the crowd.

"Taipei City," he answered. When she gave him a confused look, he continued. "Taiwan."

"Taiwan? Why the fuck are we here?"

"I have some business to attend to," he responded, taking a turn down a much less busy street.

"Magician business?" Jesse continued to prod, following him closely. "Are we gonna battle the legions of Hell? Am I going to get to meet other magicians?"

"You are not even properly equipped to _talk_ to a demon, much less fight one."

"Then what?"

"I have to talk to a certain girl."

"…That sounds pedo-ish, I hope you know that."

Glaring back at her, Matthew approached the door on an apartment building. The majority of the buildings on the street seemed to be residential, with the exception of the building beside the one they were at, which was still under construction. Placing his hand on the door, Matthew closed his eyes and appeared to be concentrating. Still, Jesse couldn't help but say what was on her mind; she always had.

"Is she a magician too?"

Giving a sigh of frustration, the blond didn't turn towards her, simply continuing whatever he was doing. For a second, Jesse thought that he wasn't going to answer when he said, "No, she's not a magician. Mei Xiao is the last human to have had contact with a particular demon I'm searching for. I'm here to ask her a few questions, and you're here because you're my apprentice. Consider this field experience."

Jesse couldn't hide her disappointment. "But interviewing people is more like detective work than magician work."

"And just what does 'magician work' entail, then?" Matthew questioned, opening the now unlocked door.

"Well," she stuttered, following him into the building. "Uhhhhh, like, fighting demons, casting cool spells, and…slaying dragons-"

"Knights slay dragons. And not all magicians fight demons. In fact, most don't. You don't become a magician to fight evil, _or_ good," he responded, reaching the second floor landing.

Jesse was already feeling the burn from the stairs.

"Well, then why _are_ you a magician?" _And why am I your apprentice_, she thought to herself. He didn't say anything as they made their way up a third flight of stairs. It was a pained sort of silence, and Jesse wondered if she had said the one thing she shouldn't have. On the fourth floor, he stopped and didn't turn around to speak, though he must have been wearing a sombre expression.

"I'll tell you one day," _if you survive_, he thought to himself. "And someday you'll find out yourself why you're here, also. But now is not the time." And he continued up the stairs once more.

Behind him and lagging by a few steps, Jesse let out a sigh of exasperation from both Matthew's words, and the climb. She said no more, if only because she was forced to conserve her air intake for climbing the final flight. She really needed to exercise more.

They passed through the narrow hallway unseen and undetected before coming to stand in front of one in particular, room 53. The pair seemed to just stand there for quite some time, Jesse trying to catch her breath, and Matthew stock still. When at last she felt her strength return, the brunette looked over at her mentor, and saw worry and confusion on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"There's…Something's not right." Was his only answer. Shit, that didn't sound good.

"What is it?" she pried again. His gaze clear and focused behind glass lenses, he spoke with all seriousness.

"A demon has been here. _Very_ recently, and may still be lingering around. You can't see it, I'm assuming." He turned his body to her then, and gently tilted her head up to face him with one hand. With his index finger, the blond traced a small series of patterns that began at the corner of her eyebrow, and looped under her left eye and down the side of her face. Jesse tried hard not to think of the memories from the past that were resurfacing…

"_It's alright, Jess," the brown-eyed boy, no, man said, thumb stroking her cheek. "I'll come back every chance I get. And you'll be the first to know when I'm coming home." The ghost of a kiss against her tear-stained lips._

"_Just…just come back, in one piece, okay?" A reassuring smile._

"_Don't worry. No terrorist is gonna take down the great Miguel!" Then fingers leaving her cheek…_

"What do you see?" he asked, releasing her jaw. Blinking herself back into the present in a vain attempt to keep tears from spilling and the blush from spreading, Jesse looked around. The hallway looked as it had before, at first. Then colours began to fade in, lightly, like a thin mist. A reddish hue was emanating from the doorway, peeking under the door, just as a slight purplish glow surrounded Matthew. A barely visible golden sheen shone closer to his physical person. Jesse herself did not shine any colour. She didn't have to answer his question for him to tell she could see the demonic taint present in the next room.

"Just be prepared. If there is a demon in there, don't speak to it; don't even look at it if you can help it. It will try to lure you in with promises of granting your heart's desire, but every wish has a cost." He turned the door handle.

Jesse had been expecting to see monsters, a room littered with bodies, pentagrams, anything but the plain living room they stepped into. It had a couch, a low table, a small television set depicting some talk show in the corner, some plants here and there. No people, however, though the evidence was there: a small cup of tea sat, cold, on the little table. Still, the air felt thick, she was on edge, and beside her Jesse could tell Matthew was tensed up. Something about the place was just _wrong_.

Wordlessly, the pair slowly walked further into the room, Matthew just a few steps ahead. They'd left the door open, though it had closed halfway due to gravity. As the magician turned and began making his way into the next room, Jesse observed that he had one hand in his coat. Was he concealing a weapon? Did he own a gun? From what she'd read of demons, they couldn't be killed by ordinary means like animals and humans. In fact, demons couldn't be killed at all, since they were immortal souls. Demons were deported back to Hell when they were "killed", usually having to spend some time there regaining their strength. For a demon, strolling around on the physical plane was no walk in the park, at least not for most.

Checking the first room, they discovered it must have been the parents'. It was clean, but empty. Further down the small corridor, they discovered the bathroom and another bedroom belonging to a teen, the daughter according to the colour scheme, all likewise devoid of life. However, in the daughter's room, they found an odd design drawn on a large piece of paper. Strange symbols curled about in a circular pattern in a brownish-red dye that Jesse guessed was dried blood. She didn't need to glimpse the red glow emanating from it to know it was demonic.

Glancing over at Matt to see his take on the situation, it struck Jesse just how…worried he looked, scared even. He turned to her then, his voice serious but controlled. "We must leave immediately."

Slowly, she nodded, and together they strode out of the room as quickly as they could. Unfortunately, once they entered the living room, they found someone standing in the doorway beyond which appeared to be the kitchen. Matthew immediately stopped, spreading one arm out slightly to both stop and protect Jesse who was just behind him. It didn't take long for her to spot the neatly dressed man opposite them.

"Well, look what we have here: a meddling magician and his…pet."

"Why are you here, Nysrogh?" Matthew demanded, sounding confident despite the precarious situation. The demon in question chuckled. Jesse had to admit, he was a good looking demon: tall, muscular, blue eyed. He also appeared very professional, his blond hair gelled back, his black suit revealing no traces of dirt or wrinkles, his shoes shined to perfection. He even wore gloves for Christ's sake. The American girl couldn't help but notice that he looked a bit like a butler.

"I am here because I was summoned, not that it is of any concern to you, _human_." Despite the degrading tone he was directing at Matthew, the demon's voice was deep and rich, and sent shivers of pleasure down her spine. She couldn't take her eyes off him.

And then he turned to her, noticed her staring, and smiled a handsome smile. On further inspection, however, Jesse saw cruelty and malice there; if given the chance, he would kill her without a second thought, relish it in fact. Suddenly, a red light appeared in those sky blue eyes, and she realised, truly, exactly what he was. Fear gripped her then, and she shifted behind Matthew just a bit more.

The demon chuckled before returning his attention to Matthew. "Leave immediately and I shall let you live to see another day," the being called Nysrogh assured, smiling despite the seriousness of the threat.

"I'm not leaving without the girl," Matthew shot back, eyes cold. The translucent purple hue that surrounded him that Jesse was only mildly aware of began to grow brighter and more opaque, as did the demon's red. Though, admittedly, it was harder to ignore the crimson taint.

"Then you shan't be leaving at all, I'm afraid," the demon said as if stating a regrettable fact. Of course, the demon did not feel the same as his tone suggested, at least not according to his broad smile. "Do you require time to prepare yourself?"

In answer, Matthew reached into his long coat and drew out two odd-looking revolvers. They were old, like 1700s old, and the barrels were longer than the equivalent modern handgun, but there were no signs of wear and tear on them. What were most interesting about them were the identical designs they sported. A thin gold platting rested in the upper portions of both with the designs beginning as swirling clouds near the handles and becoming Chinese dragons nearer to the muzzle, until it appeared as if the metaphorical fire would be appearing from the dragons' mouths. The only difference was their eyes; the right set held tiny blue sapphires whereas the left were miniscule red rubies. Jesse thought she saw writing on the metal bottoms of the guns, but the penmanship was too small and too curly to tell from her position.

"Let's get this over with," Matthew growled out, clearly annoyed at the way the situation was turning out to be.

Another chuckle. "Very well, then," was the demon's only warning before a quick punch was being driven mercilessly into Matthew's stomach. With a loud gasp, he was sent stumbling backwards into the wall, though he remained, thankfully, on his feet.

Having unconsciously taken a few steps back away from the fight, Jesse watched on with horrified eyes as Matthew wrapped an arm around his midriff, his breath laboured. The demon laughed as the magician doubled over, a sound that sucked all the hope out of her. They were fucked, right and truly fucked.

"Need a break already, mortal?" Nysrogh sneered.

"Y-yeah…just…just a few seconds…" Matthew huffed out, putting the gun in his right hand back inside his coat.

The demon snorted, suddenly put off. "You are not worth even so little of my time," he stated, advancing on the other blond. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Jesse could have sworn she saw the magician smirk from underneath his mop of hair just before the demon struck. And what a punch it would have been had it hit its mark. Instead, Matthew's now empty hand shot out to stop the demon's fist right in its tracks, surprising both demon and girl. Before either could react to the situation, the magician had the gun in his left hand up and aimed at the demon's face, allowing the creature of pure evil a split nanosecond to just barely step out of the way.

Most of this came as a blur to Jesse, to the surprised look stuck from beginning to when the demon was sent careering backwards into, and she meant _into_, the wall.

"Jesse," the magician spoke her name almost commandingly to get her attention, brushing dust off his coat. She couldn't quite shake off the shock, but managed to turn her stare to him instead. "See to the young lady in the kitchen, pl-"

With no warning at all, the demon charged from its place in the wall to grab the front of Matthew coat and shove him into the closed door. Several pictures rattled and fell to the floor from the impact. Jesse stared in horror, but was eventually shaken out of her stupor completely when the blond shouted, "Go Jesse!" Without a backwards glance, she ran for the limited safety of the kitchen.

"Don't worry, she will die a quick death," the demon growled. "But you…you will suffer for this." Having nowhere to look but at the demon's face, Matthew immediately recognized what exactly he was going to pay for. Before shoving the demon away, he'd managed to get off a shot, and it _had_ hit the creature, if only barely. The bullet, enchanted to deport demons, and angels if need be, back to their proper realm, had grazed its cheek bone, leaving a gaping tear in its wake.

The funny thing about summoned beings is that they don't bleed. Logical, perhaps, considering they're spiritual consciences allowed to temporarily gain a physical subsistence, but Matthew still thought it odd. Instead of blood dripping from the wound, ash fell in dark grey flakes. Where one should have seen ripped flesh, muscle, and bone, there was only ash. And as long as the demon stayed on this plane, it was permanent.

"Damn, I got you good-Oof!" Nysrogh had pulled him out from the door just to slam him back into it with more force, splintering the wood slightly. If it wasn't for his wards and shields, Matthew probably would have been crushed by then. "Perhaps we can settle this like gentlemen?" the magician gasped out.

The demon glared at him. Behind the red glow that had replaced its pupils, Matthew could tell it was warring between outright killing him and listening to what he had to say. Many lower level demons wouldn't have paused at all, acting purely on emotion and instinct, but Nysrogh was no low level demon.

"I am rather curious. Why are you here, human?" So the other upper level demons weren't aware of what Raum was up to. Interesting. A good bargaining chip in Matthew's favour, at least. "I doubt you're here simply for the thrill of the hunt. You don't seem like the type who's _that_ stupid."

Was that supposed to be a compliment? "I'm seeking information on a particular demon."

That got his feet touching the ground again. "Go on."

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: After being convinced by Grizzly, this chapter has actually been cut down from what I was originally going to post. The rest will appear in the next chapter, which should be considered more like a Part 2 to _this_ chapter rather than its own. In case it's not obvious, Nysrogh is Ludwig. And yes, Ludwig _is_ a demon butler, for those of you who get that joke.

More soon…hopefully.


	6. A Slight Detour

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Six: A Slight Detour

In the kitchen, Jesse tried to ignore the sounds of things breaking in the next room, tried to ignore the urge to just run. She was supposed to help…the girl casually standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes? Moving herself closer to the counters, Jesse tried to get a better look of the girl's face. She was really quite pretty, with long dark hair, and soft dark eyes. There was even a little pink flower in her hair, and her Asian dress…thing was even pink. Jesse supposed she was probably only a year or two younger than her, or maybe even her own age, but she didn't quite look it.

_Why would a sweet-looking girl like this ever summon a demon?_ Jesse asked herself. "Hey," she spoke gently, lightly grabbing the girl's shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

Slowly, the girl turned to look at her, tears beginning to stream from her eyes, and Jesse's heart nearly exploded with concern. "Help…me…" the girl pleaded in accented English.

"What's wrong?"

"Hands…"

In the dim light that shone in from the street lights through the window, Jesse noticed for the first time the colour of the dishwater. Red. The water was tainted with blood. And the girl just kept scrubbing, like she couldn't stop. Something wasn't right…

"Okay, okay, let's just…" Jesse bit back her rising panic. "Just move away from the sink…" She tugged on the Taiwanese girl, but she wouldn't budge. She tried harder, but still nothing. Even when she grasped the girl by the shoulders and pulled back with all her might, it was as if she'd been crazy glued to the spot. Or, you know, magicked.

"Shit," the tanned girl swore under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit." How was she supposed to help now? She didn't even know enough magic to light a candle, let alone whatever demonic spells was stuck on the girl.

The girl had said that something was wrong with her hands, but she couldn't even see them in the bloodied water. Since she couldn't move her away, there was only one more thing to do. Manoeuvring around the still teary girl, Jesse hesitantly dipped her hand into the dishwater and pulled the plug loose. Quickly, the Florida-born girl removed her hand and wiped it on a nearby kitchen towel, trying to ignore the red smears she left on it.

As the water drained, a horrible sight was slowly revealed. Jesse's breath became caught in her throat. The girl had been scrubbing for so long, her skin was entirely pruned, except for her fingertips. They'd been worn down through the flesh, in the case of a few fingers, to the bone. And she wouldn't, couldn't stop.

"Oh God…"

* * *

"The demon's Earthly name…is Raum."

Nysrogh's eyebrows rose at that. "And why do you seek such information?"

As aware as he was that he was walking a very narrow path above a very, very deep pit filled with sharp spikes, Matthew knew an opportunity when he saw one. Demons weren't so different from people: those without power were always seeking it, and those with power were always seeking ways of maintaining it. Now, the magician wasn't stupid. Even if he told the demon everything he knew, even if he could tell it how to become king of the universe, it was still going to kill him afterwards. But maybe he could get the demon on his side…

"He's been spending a lot of time on the Earthly plane, and not as an Issim either. Word is he hasn't returned to Hell once in the past twelve years. Suspicious, isn't it, how a moderately powerful demon has been able to stay on this plane for so long." Carefully, Matthew continued to draw out the revolver as the demon appeared focused on him, weaving a spell at the same time. "Since the Princes are, apparently, too busy to deal with their own subjects, a small group of magicians and I have taken matters into our own hands."

The elegant-looking demon growled at the final statement and tightened its grip on his shirt. "Don't act so imperiously, human. We can handle our own kind."

"Ah, but can you handle yourself?" Matthew cleverly bit out before drawing out the gun in full and firing it into the demon's torso blindly. Loosing the spell simultaneously, the creature was sent flying through the wall and out of the building entirely. Following, the blond jumped through the massive hole in the wall he'd just created, and magically propelled himself onto the concrete floor on the still being built apartment complex that made up the construction site. The demon's skidding came to a halt as it hit the concrete slab that made up the opposite wall.

In an instant, Matthew had both guns out and trained on the demon butler. As he stood there waiting for the first strike, the magician strengthened his wards, but the being did not move. "Are we gonna fight, or what?" he taunted, wanting nothing more than to get this over with, though he was also a little worried the demon was going to…

Suddenly and despite the bullet wounds he sported, Nysrogh began to laugh, deep and lowly, the sound gradually growing in volume. Matthew kept his guns trained on the creature, grip a bit tighter than it should have been.

_Please don't transform. Please don't transform._

But, of course, there was no way fate was going to let him off easy. Without warning, the demon changed from human form to true form, the way humans generally thought of demons, at least before demons became hot and sexy according to pre-teen literature. It was an abomination of nature, that much was certain. The long, needle-like black spines on its back brushed the ceiling, a height of at least nine feet. For the most part, it had the body of a hyena, though its spots had been painted in unsettling colours: ghoulish green, sickly yellow, bruised purple.

It had the pale yellow underbelly of a crocodile, scaly skin stretching from breast bone to the tip of its large, crocodile tail. It boasted three pairs of legs, all of them fading from fur to skin to muscle and finally nothing but bone as the toes were revealed (Matthew had no idea how the bones of the toes remained attached, but such was the supernatural). The hind legs resembled those of some long extinct predatory dinosaur, and the fore legs were a mutation between a human's and a cat's. The third pair resided just behind the last ribs, a shrunken, useless pair of legs like those of a very small horse that rested against its sides.

Its head was mostly hyena-like, though there were some fairly large differences. The ears were longer for one, and, besides the nose and bridge, there was no soft tissue surrounding the muzzle of the beast, only bone. The lower jaw sported boar tusks, and Matthew could see the creature's black tongue from the hole made by the bottom ring of bone. To top everything off were the demon's eyes; pupiless, sky blue mirrors, like the eyes of an animal in the darkness of the night. And those eyes were watching him now, judging the best area to strike, whether it was going to wrap its maw around his torso and kill him in a single, brutal snap of its jaws, or drag out his death purely for entertainment's sake.

"Well, shit," the blond murmured, sending a death glare towards heaven.

"_I'm afraid it's not going to be much of a fight,_" the demon stated in the Demonic tongue, its deep voice ringing in Matthew's head as much as in his ears. The beast cocked its head as it noticed the man shake his head from the loudness. The magician could have sworn it was smiling as it stepped towards him, its footfalls deadly silent. "_You understand the unholy language, and yet you are not a half-breed._" Matthew tried not to shiver as the beast began to circle around him. "_No, it runs much deeper than that, doesn't it? Well, no matter. Your blood can't save you now._"

Perhaps it was because of his nature or because his wards had managed to slow the creature's attack long enough, but Matthew was able to turn around just in time. Those jaws of teeth and bone had been about to descend on him. Instead, the beast got a mouthful of metal as Matthew aimed both guns towards its waiting maw. The next second, the creature was crumbling into a pile of ash at the magician's feet, the soul quietly and invisible getting tugged back into Hell.

"Phew," Matthew sighed, lowering his arms. That could have been worse, much worse. He could have been way more injured, as often was the case, or dead. It was odd more than anything, as if Nysrogh hadn't even been trying. Actually, there was no if; the demon hadn't cared at all about sticking around. Not unsurprising really. As the Chief of the House of the Princes of Hell, Nysrogh had all the power it needed to maintain its comfortable position in the upper echelon. There was nothing the Earthly plane had to offer.

_Oh shit, the girls._

Nearly tripping over a low table as he re-entered the living room, Matthew made it to the kitchen in record time. Knowing demons, the Taiwanese girl was probably injured but hopefully not dead. Demons weren't exactly the most forgiving of beings, even when shown kindness.

Spotting the girls on the floor, Matthew went to them and dropped to his knees to survey the damage. Jesse was cradling the sobbing girl against her side as she maintained pressure on the towel wrapped around the girl's, Mei's, hands. Red spots were already showing through the material.

Unprompted, Jesse began to replay the events, fear in her eyes. "She…she wouldn't stop scrubbing the plate. The water, God, it was all red. She's scrubbed the skin right off the bone. I tried to get her to stop, to get her away from the sink, but she wouldn't budge. And then she just…just fell to the floor."

Prying the girl's hands from Jesse's grip, Matthew carefully unwrapped the towel. Jesse hadn't been exaggerating: a few fingers really had been worn to the bone. Mei herself was in hysterics over what had transpired.

Looks like he wasn't going to get any answers tonight.

"Mei," he called out softly in Mandarin, working a bit of magic on her. It got the girl to look at him through tear-stained lashes, though her look was rather glazed. "We're going to get you to a hospital, don't worry." She gave a weak nod before passing out from the spell.

Jesse stared at him blankly. "What did you do to her?"

"Just a minor sleep spell. Come on, there's a hospital I know close by." Lifting the unconscious girl into his arms, the magician began to walk off before Jesse could say anything else. She wouldn't be shaken that easily.

"You know Taiwanese?"

"Mandarin, actually. And no, I don't. Not consciously." Damn, he had to go to the gym more. The girl was getting a bit heavy.

"So, it was a spell?"

"Essentially, yes." He looked back at her from the top of the stairs. "Hold onto my arm, we're going to jump again."

Hesitantly, she moved closer and curled her fingers around his bicep. After the spinning, gut-wrenching feeling was over, her feet were touching pavement. She probably would have toppled over from dizziness (but luckily not nausea) had she not been holding on to Matthew.

"Jesse." He sounded concerned. "I want you to stay out here. I'll be back in a second."

Then she was alone, outside the doors of the hospital. Spotting a bench nearby, she made herself comfortable, and waited.

* * *

"Jesse?"

Looking up at the sound of her name, the Florida girl spotted Matthew immediately. She didn't get up from the bench, so he set himself down beside her. She was still a bit shaken up.

"Jesse, had I known there was a demon there, I wouldn't have brought you. It's never a pretty sight when demons are involved, and I'm sorry you had to see that. Mei's going to be fine, though it's going to take time for the mental wounds to heal. If you're going to be a magician, you'll have to face these situations again. And it doesn't get easier." It took her some time to register the arm around her shoulders. Unconsciously, she leaned closer to him. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah…It's just that…I couldn't do anything for her. I couldn't get her to stop, I just watched…"

"There was nothing you _could_ do, Jesse. The only way to cut a demon's control after a failed summon like that is to deport them." She nodded in understanding, though she still felt useless. "Let's go get something to eat, and then visit an old friend."

* * *

Stepping out from the alley, Jesse found herself on a small commercial street a little ways from the main hustle and bustle of London. The night had already settled in this part of the world, but one might have never guessed by the brightness of the lamp posts, shops, and neon signs. There was one sign in particular that caught her attention, seeing as how it was practically impossible for her not to notice since they'd landed right across the street from it. In bright neon green cursive letters shone the name 'Kirkland's', with smaller, non-lit up letters reading 'Buy & Sell' underneath. The windows of the store below the sign glowed fluorescent white through the vertical bars meant to safeguard from theft.

"Your rich, British friend is…a pawnbroker?" She asked disappointedly, following Matthew as he crossed the rain-slick street.

"What were you expecting?" He asked, not at all surprised by her reaction.

"Well, maybe like a knight or a prince or something. Someone with a mansion and servants and a fancy yacht."

Matthew gave a light-hearted chuckle. "Appearances can be deceiving, kid."

Jesse was momentarily blinded as Matthew opened the door, bathing them both in brilliant, artificial light. The bells on the door jingled, announcing their arrival. After a moment, Jesse's eyes adjusted and she was able to take in her surroundings. It was indeed a pawnshop. All manner of items hung here and there. Guitars lined the walls, television sets sat piled in a corner, stacks of DVDs chilled out in cases beside porcelain figures, watches and jewellery glittered behind glass. There wasn't an inch of space _not_ covered by something or other that was up for sale. For the right price, of course.

Looking to the main counter, she spotted two figures. One was a bored looking blond with acid green eyes who was leaning back on his stool with his arms crossed over his chest. The other was a burly man with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and an impressive beard. He reminded her of a Viking. As the blond's eyes fell on the pair, a dangerous grin broke out upon his features.

"Well, look wot we 'ave 'ere, Giles." The bushy-browed blond nudged his partner who was working on some electronic parts from the VCR he had dismantled. The brunet gave his employer a vicious glare before focusing his attention once more on the device. The other Brit paid him no heed. Standing up and placing his gloved (minus the fingertips) hands wide apart on the glass counter, he continued, "Mr. Williams, back from the ninth level of Hell, I see."

"Shut it, Kirkland. Canada isn't _that_ cold," Matthew stated with a smirk as he and Jesse walked up to the counter.

"Righ', righ', an' me uncle wos the bloody Queen o' England."

"I always knew you came from a line of queers and faggots, Arthur."

The Brit's smirk expanded, revealing more of his pearly white teeth. "'Ear that, Giles? Sharp as a whip, this one. Now," the Englishman stood straight and moved towards the flip-up counter. "How can I be of service?"

"I need some more bullets," Matt stated plainly. "And maybe some charms, if you ha-"

"Why, Matthew," Mr. Kirkland exclaimed, now on their side of the counter. It gave Jesse the perfect opportunity to inspect this new man. Under his unbuttoned black trench coat, he wore a green plaid sweater vest over a white dress shirt. His plain black dress pants led her eyesight down to his likewise coloured dress shoes, that was except for the shoelace eyelet tabs which were also of green plaid. Along with his black, fingerless gloves and the singular stud on his left earlobe (was that green gem real? Matthew said he was rich, after all), he was an unusual mix-match of fashions. "How rude of you not to introduce this charming young woman." He turned to her then, green eyes apologetic. "Please forgive my behaviour from earlier, miss. My name is Arthur Kirkland and I am the proprietor of this humble establishment. May I ask your name?"

"Umm, Jessica. Jessica Sanders of Tallahassee, Florida."

"Enchanté, Mademoiselle." Gently taking hold of her hand, Arthur brought the bronzed skin to his lips and kissed the second row of knuckles of her hand. Jesse couldn't help but blush. Boys in Florida, and even in Toronto didn't do this. She was stunned speechless, but could not break her eyes from that emerald gaze.

Smirking once more, Arthur carefully dropped both of their hands and broke connection. "Best keep an eye on this one, Mattie boy. Wouldn't want anyone stealing such a lovely jewel out from under your nose." Turning around, he walked over to a tall shelving unit filled with books and magazines on virtually any subject. "And now, on to business."

With his black trench coat-clad back turned to them, Arthur turned his arms up by the elbows and snapped his fingers. Out of thin air materialized a black top hat in his left hand and a green and black candy striped cane topped with a golden apple in his right. Putting on the hat, he then taped the cane thrice upon the floor of the shop. A moment later, the shelving unit began to creak and, slowly, it opened up like a door revealing the interior of an elevator.

Stepping back and turning towards them, he motioned for them to enter. After all three of them were safe and secure inside, Arthur pushed one of the only two buttons on the panel, a button inscribed with a glowing green capital 'A'. The shelf-door closed simultaneously with the door of the elevator, and the trio began to descend into the earth.

"Where are we going? Jesse asked nervously. She wasn't so keen on being underground. At least it wasn't that far below the Earth's surface, as they stopped moving just as she finished her question.

"My dear, you're about to get your first taste of the underworld," said Arthur, fiddling with the first set of cage-like doors until they opened.

"Just stay calm, alright?" Matthew whispered in her ear. Stay calm? Was there something inside wherever they were going that was dangerous? She was starting to regret coming along.

As the lock for the second set of doors popped open, Arthur looked over his shoulder at Jesse, green eyes shining. "Welcome to the Avalon Rising, poppet."

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: So here is, essentially, part 2 from the previous chapter. Questions, comments, concerns, and suggestions can be in review form or PM, I'll respond to both as quickly as I can.


	7. So, a Wizard Walks Into a Bar

**Betwixt and Between**

By Blaklite

-{ * }-

Chapter Seven: So, a Wizard Walks Into a Bar...

All of her senses were assaulted at once. When the doors opened, light temporarily blinded her, leaving green spots in her vision. Music hit the centre of her chest just as powerfully, the steady thumps of electronic bass somehow both energizing and relaxing her. The air was thick with smoke, booze, sex, and various perfumes, all electrifying her nose and tongue simultaneously in their potency. Behind it all, there was something…something drawing her in, blocking out conscious thought…

A hand on her lower back brought her out of the spell. Jesse shook her head, and realised the club for what it was. A bar lined one section of wall, booths along another, with tables spread out here and there. Strobe lights flashed white and green. The dance floor was crowded, men and women moving with each other, and against each other. Streaks of red and gold flashed here and there; fur, feathers, horns, spiked tails. In the corner of the room, a woman was leading a bat-winged gentleman through a door. Above it all on the opposite wall, the words "Avalon Rising" shone in a brilliant emerald hue, letters slanted.

As they began to walk forward, she vaguely caught Arthur chuckling beside her. Jesse missed entirely the glare Matthew shot him when he noticed the Englishman's hand so close to her ass. Somehow, she still caught Arthur's smile.

"No need to fear, luv," he reassured her. "The Avalon is a neutral space. The angelic, the demonic, the arcane, and the mundane can all come together here without threat of violence. Of course, that doesn't mean they won't try an' steal you away. Best stick close."

Moving around the dance floor, Jesse glanced at the booths, and caught two men watching her, their eyes alight with red. Instinctively, she moved away from the demons, and closer to the Brit. Why did she feel so comfortable with him there, so safe?

Jesse was readily confused when they stopped before a blank piece of wall. Then Arthur waved his free hand, and a door materialised, opening of its own accord soon afterwards. The trio stepped inside, and as soon as the door closed, silence reigned.

"Welcome to my office. Please, make yourselves at home." Motioning for them to sit, Arthur walked around the mahogany desk to seat himself in the high backed chair. Jesse couldn't help but feel curiously lonely as the Englishman moved further away from her. Luckily, she was able to distract herself by trying to read the titles of the multitudinous books that lined three of the four walls from top to bottom. "Shall we lapse the pleasantries, and get straight to business? Pardon my French, but you both look like shit."

"We were handling some…business when we came across a demon; Nysrogh. The girl failed the summoning. She's lucky she's not dead."

"She would be had you not shown up," Arthur stated pensively. "Might this business have been related to that matter you're looking into?" Matthew nodded, and sighed. Before he could speak again, the Englishman cut him off. "Ah, no luck I see. Back to the drawing board, then." Picking up the receiver, Arthur punched in a few numbers on the phone, waiting only a short time before it was picked up. "Yes, Anne. Can I get three cups of tea?" He glanced at the other man. "Make one of those a coffee."

"Thanks, Arthur, but-"

Arthur raised his hand to stop him. "But nothing. As my loyal customer and good friend, the least I can offer you is my hospitality. Now, what is it that you need?"

Jesse watched the exchange in silence. Clearly these two appeared to have known each other for some time. What was weird about it was that Matthew seemed to respect the Brit as a mentor, or older brother figure. But the green-eyed magician mustn't have been older than twenty-five.

"Bullets, mostly. Some protective charms for her." Matthew tilted his head in Jesse's direction. Arthur's rather bushy eyebrows rose at this.

"You mean to say you took her into the field without first properly equipping her with basic spells?"

Matthew looked away. "I didn't expect a demon to be there. I was going to use the opportunity to show her how to tap into her sixth sense."

Jesse's eyes lit up at that. "Sixth sense? Like Spiderman?"

"Something like that," Arthur supplied. "Still, that was not very responsible of you, Matthew, or fair to you, Miss Sanders."

"Just Jesse is fine…" She might have been blushing a little, especially after Arthur smiled at her like that.

"Jesse. You know, if you were _my_ apprentice, I'd treat you much better. A pretty thing such as you needs to know how to defend herself. The world would be amiss without your smile."

The Floridian felt her face flare up in warmth; there was no doubt she was blushing now. Matthew had narrowed his eyes at Arthur, and the slight golden light he exuded dimmed. The Brit himself merely shook his head.

"She can't even detect when a spell is being used against her. Really, Matthew, I thought I'd trained you better than this." With a snap of his fingers, Jesse felt a previously undetected tension in her chest evaporate. She looked away, embarrassed at how quickly she'd fallen head over heels for Arthur, even if it was under the influence of magic. It was as if she had been in her freshman year all over again.

The sandy-haired blond stood up. "I'll give you a few charms, but you must show her the basics before gallivanting off for another adventure with the supernatural." Turning around, the Briton selected a book from the shelf and gently tipped it outward. After a few mechanical grindings, the bookcase sank into the floor, revealing another room beyond. As the pair stood up to follow him, Matthew spared her a concerned look. Still flushed from embarrassment, Jesse nodded that she was fine. She just felt a little silly. "Just regular enchanted rounds again? Or are you looking for something with more firepower?"

"Why, got something new?" Matthew asked, not even sparing the merchandise a glance. Jesse, on the other hand, was amazed, and slightly horrified. Weapons of all sorts lined walls: pistols, shotguns, submachine guns, and older weapons as well like swords, crossbows, and maces. Designs and unrecognizable letters were carved into all of them. Magical paraphernalia littered the room, heavy tomes sat on shelves, and glass cases held orbs of varying colours.

On top of managing a pawn shop and running a club, Arthur was an arms dealer. Frig, talk about not getting out much.

"Well, I just discovered a way to merge Sumatran and Mayan spells successfully onto such a small space. They act like explosive rounds, but also produce a black hole effect, making clean up easy." He handed a small box from one of the glass cases to Matthew. Inside were six bullets, each decorated in identical designs.

"Is this all you got?" The Canadian asked, holding up one of the projectiles to peer at the etchings more closely.

Arthur nodded. "They haven't been tested in the field yet, either. I'm not quite sure how effective they are against summons, but they'll chew apart flesh and bone in a nanosecond." He took out, also, a larger box from underneath the counter. "How many rounds of the normal stuff do you want?"

"Four sets should do. There's never enough time to miss, but you never know, right? Do you have a basic all-in-one protection charm?"

The Englishman snorted at that, moving to a cupboard and searching through a plain jewellery box. "I can do better than that, lad. Here." He motioned for Jesse to step close and turn around. She did, and was rewarded with the cold grip of a metal chain around her neck. Resting on her chest was a tear drop shaped navy gem. "Should protect you against low to middle strength offensive spells, as well as detect subtle charms, and there's a chance that a physical strike could be deflected and slowed down to allow you to strike back. Also, that shade of blue looks lovely on you, poppet."

Jesse found herself blushing and looking off to the side again under his gaze. She was spared having to respond when a figure came to stand in the doorway. The unfamiliar woman was beautiful, dark, and graceful in her movements. She was holding a tray of cups.

"Shall I leave this in your office, Mr. Kirkland?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you, Anne." Jesse was mildly jealous that he used the same smile on the woman as he did on her.

-{ * }-

A Note From Blaklite: For the full spiel on what's going on with me and finishing my stories, please refer to the latest chapter (11) of The Gift You Can't Return. This story is one of the ones that may or may not ever be finished in fully written form. As much as I do love it, I haven't thought this one through as much as I have a few other fics. That being said, don't lose hope.

This chapter has actually been done for months. I ended up forgetting about it. My bad.


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